Don't Give Them Any Ideas
by themusicain
Summary: As she saw her sons off to Hogwarts, Molly Weasley forgot the Weasley Golden Rule: Don't give them any ideas. This is the result of neglecting that rule.


_"Now, you two- this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl telling me you've- you've blown up a toilet or-"_

_"Blown up a toilet? We've never blown up a toilet."_

_"Great idea, though, thanks, Mum."_

Ah, Molly Weasley. You, of all people, should know the Weasley Golden Rule:

Don't Give Them Any Ideas

The Agent peered round the corner, and was glad to see that the coast was clear. There wasn't even a portrait along this corridor. No one to see his evil deed.

He crept across the torch-lit hallway and into another room. A bathroom. He pulled a large piece of parchment from his pocket and tapped it lightly with his wand. "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good," he whispered with a grin.

The names of the great Marauders greeted him. "Ah, Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. Where would we be without you?" He carefully examined the small ink dots suddenly moving across the parchment along the various lines and spirals that indicated the hallways and stairs of the castle. No one was visible on this corridor. No one except one Fred Weasley, who appeared to be just across the corridor from the bathroom.

George tiptoed to the door and opened it enough to see his twin brother grinning like a loon from behind a tapestry. George knew that Fred had just used the secret passage from the third floor. He waved and beckoned Fred towards him. "Quick!" he hissed.

Fred raced across the wide corridor to join George in the bathroom. He shook silently with suppressed chuckles.

"_Alohamora_," whispered George, pointing at the door. He heard a soft _click_ as the spell did what it was supposed to do. "Much better," he smiled. "A little privacy." He turned to regard the five cubicles lined up along the wall. "Which one do you think, Fred?"

Fred looked at the cubicles seriously. It was, after all, important that they got this right. There were people who needed pranking. Serious pranking.

"Lee said he usually goes to this toilet after dinner, round about quarter to six-"

"-Which gives us ten minutes," George noted, glancing at his watch.

"-And that he tends to use the one nearest the door," continued Fred, pointing. "So I'd say that that one's our best bet."

"Sure?"

"Sure enough to get an "A", I'm sure," said Fred with a twinkle in his eye.

"An "A"?"

"Yep."

"Can't drag it up to an "E" at all?"

Fred considered. "With the amount he's been drinking tonight, I'd say… yeah."

""E" it is!" said George as they high-fived.

The evil geniuses set to work, pulling various stoppered test-tubes full of potions (all nicked from an earlier potions class) from their robes, rolling their sleeves up in a decidedly business-like manner, and using their wands to great effect. Once finished, they stood back to admire their handy-work.

"You wouldn't know it'd been tampered with," said Fred proudly.

"I agree. I'm sure he'll love it. What time is it now, anyway?"

Fred glanced at his watch. "Almost quarter to!"

George spun round and directed his wand at the ceiling as Fred hurriedly tidied everything away. A large grille slid upwards, revealing a space large enough for two third years. Perfect.

George gave Fred a leg-up, then allowed his brother to pull him up. They huddled around the hole, delighted to see that they had a perfect view of the bathroom. They glanced at the Marauder's Map.

Their victim was walking rather hurriedly along the corridor in their direction. As he neared the door, George realised that the door was still locked. He unlocked it just as their prey dashed into the bathroom, his white-blonde hair glinting in the torchlight. True to form, he went straight for the cubicle nearest the door.

George felt a small pang of guilt at pranking a first-year like this, but he quickly remembered Harry's story about his performance in the Forbidden Forest. The coward had talked extensively about what would happen is his father found out. _Well, here's something for your father to whine about, blondie_, thought George gleefully.

A second later, there was a huge bang, and water went everywhere, except- thankfully- the Weasley twin's little hidey-hole. The first-year was first blown backwards and then swept back to where he had formerly stood. He sat up, drenched and soot blackened, but clearly not hurt, except for a few bruises, perhaps. Fred and George high-fived again, and, taking advantage that the water had put out the torches and that they were now all but standing in darkness, made their escape.

HP

A very excited Lee Jordan greeted them in the Common Room.

"Did you do it?" he asked, his teeth flashing in his dark face as he grinned.

"Oh, yeah," said George, doing a little victory dance on the spot.

"Little Malfoy never knew what hit him," added Fred.

George started to laugh, then stopped and wrinkled his nose.

"To be honest," he said, "he probably doesn't want to know."

The threesome shuddered.

HP

A smart tawny owl landed on the windowsill and gave a muffled screech. The screech was muffled because it held an envelope stamped with the Hogwarts crest.

"Oh, dear," sighed Molly, wondering what on earth her sons had got up to this time. As she read, her face grew extremely white. "Merlin's Beard!" she exclaimed.

"What's the matter, dear?" asked her husband as he entered the kitchen with his daughter in search of tea. Molly passed him the letter wordlessly.

"Bloh- I mean, err, oh, dearie me!" said Arthur loudly.

"What? What?" asked Ginny excitedly, trying to see the parchment.

"Your brothers have blown up a toilet," her father told her.

Ginny grinned, then pointed a finger accusingly at her mother. "I _told_ you not to give them any ideas!"


End file.
